


Worlds Without End

by SufferingIsAChoice



Series: The Old Gods of Arcadia Bay [3]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Meta, Metafiction, Multi, Multiple Universes Colliding, Other, This is going to be weird and dense and self-indulgent, and full of supernatural shit, ill add more tags as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SufferingIsAChoice/pseuds/SufferingIsAChoice
Summary: Max has traveled far and wide, for a very, very long time, all seeking the answers to two questions. Where did her powers come from? And who are the Old Gods of Arcadia Bay?
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Kate Marsh/Chloe Price, Victoria Chase/Kate Marsh
Series: The Old Gods of Arcadia Bay [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946536
Comments: 74
Kudos: 17





	1. Outskirts of the Carrion Kingdoms, 1465 N.E.

Max looked up at the warrior sitting across the tavern. She was tall, and her hair was long, and light. It was cut up around her shoulders, and a knit cap was pulled down over her head, and still she was beautiful. Max caught herself thinking that, and looked away, before the warrior could glance back at her. Her hands were shaking, as she tried to focus on wiping down the bar.

The door opened, and a woman stood on the threshold, stamping snow from her booted feet. Max shivered. It was nearing the middle of winter, and her home village was high into the mountains, almost out of the kingdom entirely, and into Exilic lands. It was freezing outside, and despite the roaring fires, and crowd and heat of bodies crammed into little room, full of farmers and warriors, and despite even her own warm woolen dress, Max was chilled.

For a moment she thought about the long walk home, that night, alone, back to her house, the house that her parents had left to her when they died. She would have to stamp through the snow, and her bed would be cold and inhospitable. Despite herself, as the strange woman approached the bar, Max found herself looking back towards the laughing warrior in the dented, and rusted armor, with her light hair, and her beautifully blue, blue eyes.

"What do you have?" The woman, still with snow clingy to her, asked.

"Just ale," Max said, still looking at the warrior across the room.

"Well, in that case I'll have just ale. What's up, dumbass? You seem distracted."

Max dragged her attention to the woman standing in front of her, across the bar. She was dressed strangely, in a grey coat of some kind, with a hood that she had let fall backwards to her neck. Her head was shaved down to the skin, and wrinkles spread across her face. But under her odd clothes, Max could see the muscles in her frame, and she saw tattoos on her hands. Despite the strangeness of her manner, and dress, Max thought she saw something there that she recognized. Something familiar that she could not quite place.

"Sorry," Max said, suddenly flustered and embarrassed for some reason. "Just, uh, distracted."

The woman followed Max's glance across the room, to the tall warrior, with the necklace around her neck, and then slowly looked back, with a smile spreading across her face.

"God, so many fucking versions are just, like, incredibly awkward, aren't we?"

"What do you mean?" Max asked, the strangeness of the words barely registering as, automatically, she poured ale for the woman.

"What's the name of this place?" The woman asked, ignoring her question.

"This is the Sign of the Two Whales."

"Kinda a weird name for a place this high in the mountains, don't you think?"

"We get a lot of Exilic travelers coming over the mountain pass up from the coast," Max said, feeling defensive for some reason. "They named it after their whales. Aren't you Exilic?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," the woman said, after taking a huge swig of ale. "I am from considerably farther away, from a place filled with drugs, photos, stupid storms, and cute girls."

"Isacar?"

"Farther."

"The Synarchy?"

"Listen," she said with a sigh, "I don't know super much about this world, this universe, or this timeline. I'm just stopping here for a quick rest before pushing even further out into probability space. So before you keep asking me questions, Max, let me cut you off and just say that I am from far, far farther out then any place you are likely to know of. And also, given you and her being here, and the name of this little tavern, a place that's weirdly rather close in another world. Speaking of, what is this town called anyway?"

"Arcadia," Max hissed, as she leaned closer to the other woman, "but how did you know my name?"

"Figures," the stranger said with a sigh. "And no, before you ask, you did not tell me your name, I'm just, well, guessing based on the rest of what I'm seeing here, and the general aesthetic of this place, does the explanation that I'm magic hold any weight?"

"Are you a Varhyexi sorcerer?" Max said, drawing back.

"Again, I don't know what that is," the stranger said, draining the last of her ale, "but hey, I'll say this, even if it won't end up making any goddamn sense to you, dumbass. I'm you. One of many possible versions of you. Specifically a version of you that went through a loss that changed me forever, and got me unstuck in time. For awhile I was an asshole, and then I had a run in with two idiots that made me start traveling, searching further and further out into probability space, into universes like this one, so different from my own, looking for an answer to a question. Who or what are the Old Gods of Arcadia Bay?"

"I don't understand," Max said, trying to close her mouth, which had opened in silent shock.

"Nope, didn't expect you too," the woman said, taking a step back, and sighing heavily. "But I'm Bay Max to some, Future Max to others, and mostly just Max to myself. Nice to meet you, Max. I'll be going now, though. I've got some other universes and timelines out there that I need to investigate."

"Wait," Max found herself calling after the strange woman, as she took a step towards the door, "I don't understand. What are you doing? Why are you here? You must have answers."

"Not yet I don't," the woman said, with a shrug, and a smile on her face. "But I hope to find some soon. Oh, and also, just so you know, since I'm trying to be less of a monster, that girl over there's name is Chloe. You should try talking to her about, well, I'm guessing swords in this universe? And have fun."

She turned, and stomped back out into the night, and the cold, and the snow, and the winter, and whatever mysterious journey she was on. Max looked away from her, turning towards the fire, where the warrior sat. She was looking up, now. Had she heard the stranger's words? As Max watched she, Chloe, made eye contact, and started to grin.

For the first time all night Max felt warm.


	2. Fremont Troll Fort, last holdout of the Salish Free State, 2034 C.E.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vision of things to come, and the promise of more. In the ruins of Seattle, Kate Marsh prepares for the end.

The last hovercrafts screeched in tight formation across the slate-grey sky, heading south towards California. Kate watched them go. They were the last way out, the last exit from the ruins of Seattle, and just like that they were gone. She had nothing left now but her faith, and hope in things unseen. Hope that someone in the California Republic was still fighting, hope that the drone-swarms wouldn’t get the hovercraft, and hope that someone, somewhere, somewhen, would remember their last stand. And hope that she would spend her last hours on this Earth with her wife.

“Babe,” Victoria said, as she walked up with the gun slung over her shoulder, “we need to get inside. They’re almost here and the general says we’re shutting down the bunker. On her orders.”

“I will, love,” Kate said softly, taking her wife’s hand in hers, “just taking one last look at this city, and the sky before the end. Do you remember how we used to go on those little tea dates up here?”

“Are you thinking of the ones before or after?” Vic asked, kissing her hand, through the grime of rubble.

“Before the wedding, when you were so scared.”

“I was trying to make up for all the harm I had done, babe, and trying to change. Plus I was crushing on you just so, so much.”

“I know, and you did change, baby,” Kate said, finally pulling her attention to her wife’s prematurely wrinkled face, covered in soot and ash. “We were good. We did good. We had a good life together, you and I.”

“We’ll go on those dates again, babe,” Vic said, holding Kate’s hands tight. “You have to believe that. She’s got hope, after all.”

“The general’s got hope in a miracle,” Kate said gently. “Hope that someone will come and save us, but there is no one out there to help. So I have hope too, but in a very different thing.”

Vic’s eyes flicked down to the old necklace Kate wore around her neck, and her eyes glistened, as she spoke.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go. I don’t know if I’m ready for this to end, and just be over. No more of the story left to tell.”

“I don’t know if anyone ever is ready for an end, love. Especially when a story meant so much, like you and our life together. But we don’t get to choose that. We just have to make the most of what time and space we have, and hope we made a good story. I love you, and if I have to go, I want it to be with you.”

“Shit!” One of the militia members screamed. “Enemy incoming! I can see them in the crater!”

Victoria and Kate turned, and ran, hand in hand, through the drifting ash. Around them klaxons sounded, and high overhead, piercing through the clouds, they heard the shriek of incoming drones. The last of Seattle was already in flames from the war, and ahead of them the last survivors were running into the bunker. Behind them the huge, heavy steel doors swung closed, and as the floodlights came on, in the entrance room, sterile, white, and clinical, the entrance to the outside world sealed with a heavy clang.

“Please proceed in an orderly line down the hallway to the elevators,” the coms announced, over the panicked conversations, just as the first shell exploded outside.

Kate looked up, her hand still wrapped around Victoria’s. The crowd was moving down the hallway, away from the entrance, deeper into the bunker. But Kate was not looking at them. She was looking at the figure with the long, flowing hair, sweeping through the crowd, against the peoples’ movement.

“General,” Vic said, too tired to salute. “Any word?”

“We have word that the Witch King of Wichita might still be holding out, along with the Other King in Las Vegas, but radiation levels over the Rockies have jumped, and we haven’t gotten any more news,” she replied, easily.

“And Paris?”

“No one saved them.”

“Shit,” Vic spat. “So I guess we really are alone. No help from California.”

“If there even is still a Republic down there,” Kate said, closing her eyes, and trying not to think of the deaths they would have seen if they had fallen.

“Have faith, Kate,” the general said, looking her in the eye, with that strange smile she had so often. “Every storm passes eventually. You have to have some faith that we will still be saved.”

“I do believe,” Kate said, her hand moving towards the cross on her neck, “I will die believing. But not in your gods. I don’t think some miracle will come out of the ether, when the world lies in ruin, on its last day, to save us like some deus ex machina.”

At that moment the intercom connecting the sealed doors to the outside of the bunker, where the enemy was attacking, buzzed, and a strained voice spoke to them.

“Uh, I have no clue what the fuck these things are, but they seem to have fallen back. Can I come in?”

“Open the doors!” The general shouted.

“Wait, general,” Vic hissed, “they’re out there. We have hundreds of women and children in here. We can’t just open the door that easily.”

“Unlike you, Victoria,” the general said, “I have some faith that the gods do indeed intend good things for us. This isn’t over yet. Open the doors!”

Militia men unslung their weapons and pointed them at the gates, as did Victoria, as the huge steel doors unfasted, and slowly opened out, showing the view of the ruined city. There was no sign of the enemy there. Indeed, only a lone figure, gaunt, muscled, tattooed, and wearing a grey hoodie was standing there, her eyes nearly bugging out of her shaved head.

“Identify yourself,” Victoria parked.

“Victoria fucking Chase?” The figure said.

“Victoria Marsh,” she corrected automatically.

“Oh,” the figure said. “Damn, this far out into probability space and anything can happen, I guess. Congrats. I’m Max Caulfield. One of many versions of her, at least. What the fuck were those things?”

“I was expecting you,” the general said, with a smile, taking a step forward, and holding out her hand in greeting as the militia watched. “I suspect you’ve met other versions of me, out there in other timelines. Who knows, maybe in some timelines you and I were in love? And in others I died.”

“Rachel Amber?” The figured said, ignoring the offered hand. “Holy shit.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Kate said, shouting, trying to understand. “This doesn’t make any sense. Max died in the fall of Portland.”

“Our world’s Max died, maybe,” Rachel said, still smiling, “but I think the gods have made quite a few different versions of her, spiraling out there into the dark infinities of the universe.”

“Shit, finally!” Max, the other Max, said, a smile spreading across her face. “I’ve been searching way out here into probability space looking for someone who knows what the fuck the Old Gods are.”

“Oh, I don’t know that,” Rachel said, like she knew what she was talking about. “I was touched by them, and their power, I think, like the wind touches us all. They decided to let me know these things. Are deciding right now, I suppose. Did decide. I’m not exactly sure how they experience time, and I certainly don’t understand them. But I think I have an idea of someone who might.”

“Just for once, why can’t these powers make sense?” the other Max complained, as Kate took Vic’s hand. “Alright who?”

“You’ve travelled very, very far from your original reality, your first timeline, I think, right?” Rachel said. “Impressive, out here you must be finding things are increasingly alien for you. But you don’t need to do that. Head back in towards the center of, what was it that you called it? Your probability space. Look for an old woman who has seen one town over, and over, and over again, through many lives. I believe she’s called the Seer.”

“Well, it’s the first real clue I’ve got,” the stranger said with a shrug, “so I’ll take it, even if it’s kinda shitty. No offense, Rachel.”

“None taken,” the general said with her normal open and wide smile, “the gods provide. I had faith in them and they brought you here. This is not a coincidence because nothing ever is, under their power.”

“Bullshit,” Kate found herself saying, “if they are out there then they’ve made all these terrible things happen. Every traumatic and horrible thing ever. Every death. How can they be good? How can you still have faith like that?”

“I mean, I don’t, for what it’s worth,” the other Max said with a grin. “I think I kinda want to punch them in their stupid faces when I finally track them down.”

“I don’t know if you can hurt them,” Rachel said softly. “Not if they don’t let you, at least.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about them for someone who said she didn’t know what they were,” Victoria said, her words bitter.

“They let me know what I know, and say what I say,” Rachel said with a shrug. “Or are doing that right now, I suppose. That’s why I believe in them. Because I have to. They have done horrible things, probably, and allowed suffering to exist. But they also allowed us to exist, and without them? I am not sure if we would even have any reality without them. They simply are, and I choose to believe they are good, and wish us well.”

“But wait,” Kate interjected, as an enemy siren started wailing in the distance, “you said you were expecting a miracle. If this Max, or whatever she is, is that miracle, then is she going to save us?”

“Yeah, about that,” Max said, glancing behind her. “What the fuck happened in this reality? This is Seattle right? Or was, I suppose? Why is it a bombed out post-apocalyptic hellscape?”

“The world fell,” Victoria said bitterly.

“Specifically we’re dealing with a Roko’s Basilisk type scenario,” Rachel said, like she was talking about the weather. “And because of that we lost containment of every anomalous object all at once. Which I guess technical means that this reality is crossing over with at least one other one, out there.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Max complained.

“It was Warren and Brooke,” Victoria said, spitting again. “And also them bringing about a singularity, and being evil super geniuses. Right now we’re dealing with a bunch of memetic, cognito and info hazards too, which is why our speech might sound a little nonsensical and stilted to you.”

“So, again,” Max said, acting like she was talking to some invisible observer, “I am trying to be less of an asshole and actually help people, after being the big bad villain. What would it take to save you all?”

“I don’t think you can save us,” Kate said, squeezing Victoria’s hand as tight as she could. “Not in this life, at least. All we can hope for is whatever comes after, and who we want to spend our last hours with. Unless, I don’t know, in your reality and world hopping, or whatever it is you do, you found magic that can save us.”

“Oh goddamnit,” Max muttered, “that is just too much. If stuff like that keeps happening then I really am gonna start believing that the gods are good too.”

“What is it?” Victoria asked, and for the first time in a very long time, Kate heard a note of hope in her voice.

“I just came from a universe with a bunch of stupid magicians,” Max said with a heavy sigh. “I think I might be able to do some time travel shit, hope around in the realities and get them over here to save you guys. Talk about a fucking deus ex machine.”

“You’d do that?” Kate said, feeling hope bloom inside her so suddenly it hurt, as she pulled Victoria towards her. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be a good guy, like I said,” Max shrugged. “And also ‘cause you two are a really cute couple and probably have some really good stories I’d like to hear some time. But anyway, wait here, I’ll be right back to save all you dumbasses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied, I may have written another chapter last night. In my defense, I wrote more for my novel. Again, no guarantees on when the next chapter will arrive, especially since it will probably be longer, but in the meantime, enjoy!


	3. December 11th, 2013, Arcadia Bay, 11:55 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe has a surprise planned for her girlfriends. And instead she finds a surprise waiting for her.

"Holy shit," Chloe laughed, as she drove through the snowfall, with Kate and Max sitting in her truck, next to each other. "I cannot believe how fucking lame that fucking dance was. I am so glad I'm not going to that prep school anymore."

"I mean, it is a good school," Kate said softly.

"You know how she is, Kate," Max laughed, her voice almost like music as she smoothed out her sparkling black dress. "Just laugh and nod and she'll move on."

"Or not, Marsh," Chloe said, gently punching her, or, rather, tapping her, on the shoulder. "Sometimes I am hopelessly stubborn and cannot be stopped from being the most annoying person in the universe."

"Sometimes?" Kate said, and their was a gentle, teasing tone to her voice.

"Oh, burned," Max jumped in. "How are you gonna respond to that, Chloe? Just gonna take it sitting down?"

"I mean, in fairness, Maxamalian, Marsh does look hella pretty in that little white dress and right now its super hard to be mad at her."

"This is true," Max agreed, almost purring. "And did you see the moves she pulled at the dance? Made me think about just how lucky we are, Chloe."

"Oh, stop it, you two," Kate said, but even in the darkness of the night, Chloe could tell from just her voice that she was blushing.

"Uh, wait, listen, as adorable as you two are," Max interrupted, "where exactly are we going? This isn't the way back to your house, and I thought we had, you know, a special night planned? If you get my meaning, Chloe?"

"Oh, no, that's still in the plans," Chloe said, her grin spreading, as she knew her plan was coming to fruition. "But I've got a surprise for you two first."

"In the Two Whales?" Kate asked, as she pulled up outside the diner. "Why are all the lights on inside? It's, like midnight, and snowing."

"Ladies," Chloe said, as she killed the engine and tried to adjust her suit, "you two are like, the best. Girlfriends. Best girlfriends. It's cool if I call you that? Right? Cool. And you've both been wonderful, with the tea date, Kate, and the movie night, Max, and I wanted to do something special for you. So, uh, I may have asked Joyce for some help, and, well, I guess what I'm asking is, you two wanna go on a late night breakfast for dinner date with me?"

Snow gently fell outside, and past it the lights of the diner burnt, shining like a lighthouse of safety and welcome, in a cold and dark world. A street light illuminated Kate and Max's hands as, as if on instinct, they reached for each other. And then they both started laughing.

"That was adorably sincere, babe," Max laughed. "Of course the answer is yes. Right beb?"

"Hell yeah," Kate said, grinning coyly, and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"In that case, ladies," Chloe said, as she opened the door, "if you'd give me the pleasure."

The door to the diner swung open in front of them, as Chloe carefully helped them up the steps in their heels. Joyce was there, like she had said she would be, grinning wildly. Chloe understood, intellectually, that she was happy to see her with not just Max, but Kate too. She hoped, she had said, one night, that the good Christian girl was a good influence on her punk daughter. But now was not the time for Joyce's teasing, so Chloe shot her a look, and hope that she picked up on the message. Besides, she didn't know what the three of them had been doing out in the junkyard.

"I hope you understand, girls," Joyce said, as Chloe took their coats, and they sat down next to each other, in the booth, "that since this is, er, a special occasion we don't have everything we normally serve. But I do have waffles and bacon I saved just for you."

"Sounds fantastic, Mrs. Price," Kate said, looking up at her with her genuine, warm smile.

"Ooh, so polite, isn't she Chloe?" Joyce said, elbowing her daughter in the side. "I'll be back in a bit. Enjoy yourselves."

Chloe rolled her eyes, and then turned back to her girlfriends. They were sitting there, side by side, leaning into each other slightly, as the snow melted off them. Did they even realize they were holding hands? Did they realize how hella cute they were? And it was not just that they were each individually cute, although they absolutely were, Chloe thought, feeling herself flush. But it was that they were also cute together. She was so damn lucky. Was it hot in here?

"You alright, babe?" Max asked, looking up at her.

"Yeah, yeah," Chloe said hurriedly, looking for an excuse. "I think, uh, I'm gonna go out back to the alley and smoke a quick cig. Be right back."

"You better not be too long," Kate said worriedly.

"Yeah! Punk!" Max shouted, as she walked towards the door. "You look too good in that suit to let it go to waste!"

"Don't worry, you haven't seen the last of me, Marshfield," Chloe snorted.

Outside was cold, but it was refreshing too. She had just gotten a little too emotional, for a second, Chloe told herself, as she walked around to the side of the diner. After the night, and the dancing, and thinking about how lucky she was, she was emotional. Too emotional. And she needed to play things cool. This was her treat, after all. A quick smoke to settle her nerves, and then back inside, she thought, as she lit up. She'd impress them both yet.

"So, you're the Seer?" She heard a strangely familiar voice say from around the back of the building.

"Some call me that, I mean," another voice croaked, "I have lived here for a thousand years. Just about everything has happened to me. This is my home, from the mists, to the sea, to the bay. This is my home, across every timeline, and every world, and every reality."

Chloe turned, and walked slowly across the snow, trying not too crunch it too loudly under her feet, as she went. She poked her head carefully around the corner, and saw a homeless woman, and a woman in a grey hoodie, and a shaved head, talking to each other, standing in the snow with their hands shoved deep into their pockets.

"We met a long time ago," the woman with the shaved head said, almost like she was making casual conversation.

"We did, I remember. Before you ended up like me, unstuck in time, living things over, and over, and over again. You tried to warn me about the storm. You knew it was coming, like that Nathan did, in some timelines. I don't think he did in your timeline though. You were a nice girl, back then. Changed a lot, and I'm not sure it's for the better."

"Yeah, I was pretty much a dick," the woman with the shaved head said, and something about her voice was immensely familiar to Chloe. "Trying to be better now, and actually track down the Old Gods of Arcadia Bay. Hold them accountable. Or thank them, I guess, maybe. Not sure, but I just got here from a reality where this one girl thought they were amazing. She told me you might know more about them."

"Rachel Amber, right?" The homeless woman said, and Chloe did not understand what she meant, since Rachel was in San Francisco working as a model, or something, since they had broken up.

"Yeah, how did you know?" The woman in the hoodie asked.

"When you live long enough you see the same faces again and again in different lives. Echoes of this town, this diner, you, me, everyone. You must have seen them, out there, realities where you're knights, or spies, or assassins, or siblings, or work in a coffee shop, or a tattoo parlor. I could go on. There are an infinity of us, spiraling out into the dark recesses of the universe, and all of it made by the gods."

"I have seen some of it. Not all, but some. Enough to know you're telling the truth. But who are the gods? How can I talk to them? Figure out how this all started?"

"I don't know if you can talk to them," the homeless woman said with a shrug, as the other woman offered her a cigarette. "But if you really want to try, I'd try tracking down a reality a bit closer home to one of them. You went really out there, finding those other worlds, but what you really, really need for them to maybe show up is something that they really care about, and is important to at least one of them."

"Do you know a place that might be like that?"

"I do," the woman said, as she lit the cigarette, and inhaled. "But if I tell you, promise me you'll hold them accountable."

"For what?"

"For everything. Chloe dying, you dying, me dying, Nathan, Rachel, Jefferson, the storm, the death, Kate, everything. I know that one Rachel Amber may have thought differently, but I can never forgive them for making us suffer like this. Give them a piece of my mind."

"I will," the woman with the shaved head said, before suddenly looking up, and fixing Chloe with her gaze. "You can come on out, Chloe, I've known you've been watching us. Quick, now."

Chloe froze, and then, pinned under the woman's intense gaze, stepped out, into the alley behind the diner, her heart thudding in her chest.

"Do I, uh, know you?"

"I'm Max, dumbass. One of many potential Max's she's left behind," the woman said, and as she spoke Chloe saw the similarity in their faces.

"Oh shit, are using time magic?" Chloe asked, jumping to the only explanation she could come up with.

"Wait what?" The other Max said. "In this reality there's magic too? Oh goddammit that's just too fucking much. What are you even doing out here right now?"

"I mean, I'm on a date with my girlfriends," Chloe said, feeling defensive for some reason. "They both passed their enchanting finals and I wanted to celebrate after the dance."

"Girlfriends?" The old Max said, incredulously. "Who?"

"Uh, you, past you, I guess, and Kate Marsh."

"God, some timelines have all the luck," the other Max said, rubbing her eyes, "well, congrats, Chloe, enjoy it, and don't take it for granted. I've got gods to punch, apparently. I don't think we'll meet again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe, hope it did not disappoint. As for where our journey will take us? To what AU? That will have to remain, for now, a mystery.
> 
> Also, bit of random trivia, in some versions of the game Nathan was going to know about the storm ahead of time. And I wanted to reference that.


	4. May 19th, 1920, Matewan, West Virginia, U.S.A.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max travels to the place the Seer told her to, somewhere and somewhen near and dear to a god, apparently.

I arrived in this reality with some difficulty. It’s location in probability space was very close to that of my reality of origin, so I probably would not face any more magicians or evil armies lead by Warren or any other ridiculous shit. But temporally it was significantly displaced from my baseline, and it drained me pushing myself into it.

I sat on a stump by the side of the a little dirt road, between a creek and a railroad track, and tried to get my bearings. I was nowhere, as far as I could tell. The hills were bald above, with signs of recent logging, and the sky was overcast, threatening a storm soon. A little town of wood-frame buildings sat some ways to my right, and a shanty town of lean-tos and tents to my left. Thunder rumbled high above, in the distance.

This was nowhere. A hundred years before I had gotten my powers, nearly, originally, in that first timeline. I had seen places like this, before, crawling backwards and forward through time, but this was nothing special. It was a nowhere mining town in the little hills and valleys of West Virginia in 1920. It should have been completely unrelated to Arcadia Bay in 2013, Seattle in 2020, or any other place of importance to me. It should have been nothing.

But I remembered what the Seer had told me. There were many gods, she thought, at least, out there. Some were more powerful than others, she had speculated, and some had certain places, certain moments in history, that mattered to them personally. It was just a theory, she had said, but if I were to travel to one of these points, and disrupt it, perhaps I could get a god’s attention. And apparently one god cared very much what happened on this afternoon in this tiny, insignificant town.

Eventually I stood. People were moving now, walking from the shanty town into the village. An old woman in nearly puritanical robes led the way and men in dirty suits, and children stained with coal dust followed behind her. They spoke English, and German, and Italian, and more languages, among themselves, and many stared at me, in my hoodie. But no one stopped me. They clearly had somewhere to be, and fast, so I followed them, looking for something to disrupt, some way of messing things up in such a way that a god would get involved.

And then I saw her. Naturally there would be a version of me here. Would it even be another reality if I didn’t run into someone I knew? There I was, me from this reality, this timeline, all young, with my freckles, and my hair pulled back. She had her mouth open, just a bit, and I could tell she was worried. I sighed, and knew what I needed to do to find out how to get the god’s attention.

“Max, isn’t it?”

“Maxine,” she replied automatically. “Do I know you?”

“I’m with Mother Jones,” I said, thinking fast. “Solidarity.”

“Oh, right, solidarity forever,” she replied nervously.

“What’s going on? Where’s this crowd going?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard? Seven Baldwin-Felts men came in on the train today and evicted a bunch of striking miners and their families, and they say they’re going after the sheriff, who’s a union man. There’s a rumor that some of the, well, boys, are getting together a group to stop them.”

“Right,” I said, glancing around for another familiar face in the crowd, as we entered the town, “Matewan. I think I remember. Middle of nowhere. Why on earth would a god care about this?”

“Well, ma’am,” she said, “I don’t know about god but I’m real worried. There’s a, a boy, in the union, who’s been fighting the bosses for a while now that I like. I don’t want, well, him, to get hurt.”

I glanced over at her, exactly equal to my height. Was she lying? Or was I straight in this reality? Oh well, I was not here for me or alternate reality drama. I just needed to stop whatever was about to happen, and piss off whatever god or gods were watching this tiny, little, nowhere-town.

I stopped with the crowd, and looked ahead. There was a train station, in the middle of the dirt street. There was a sign advertising a hardware store. And there, in the center of a growing ring of people, miners, children, preachers and more, were two armed groups of men, facing each other down.

One was clearly the detectives, in their suits, with their briefcases at their sides. For a moment I imagined what they would look like in a hundred years. Old fashioned, yes, but the suits would still be rich-person suits. Bougie. Class traitors, you could say, even. And there, blocking their way, were the miners. They were dirty, and a man with a badge stood in the center, but there among them I saw the face I had expected ever since seeing another version of myself in this reality.

She was trying to look like a man, in this reality. Or maybe she was trans? Part of me had long thought she might have been something other than a strictly speaking cis girl. I mean, for god’s sake, she had once written graffiti about thinking like a man on her wall, there had to be at least some realities where she had explored that. But whatever her gender identity in this or any other timeline, there was Chloe, in a heavy shirt and trousers stained in coal dust, with a cap pulled down low over her ragged hair. A gun was in her hands.

“Let me guess,” I said, hissing in the other Max’s ear, “that’s your, uh, man, over there in the hat.”

“Do you know them?” Max hissed, looking up at me frantically. “They work in the mines. Don’t call them Chloe in public, no one can know.”

“Yeah,” I said, looking away from here, “getting involved in local timeline drama is the last of my interests. I’m trying to be a good person, but having a bunch of wizards fight Warren’s army was still pretty far out there for me.”

“What?” She asked, as I rewound time, on instinct.

“Yeah,” I said again, as I watched the man with the badge shout something at the detectives, “I’ll keep you two safe.”

I did not see who shot first, and the gun fight was over fast. Most gunfights were, really, when you got down to it. People ran away screaming, seven detectives, and two miners fell, and just like that it was over. Chloe was dead, once again, and Max, me, this version of me, was running across the dusty street to her, already screaming.

I let history play out, as I watched it, swimming through time, backwards and forwards, less and less anchored to reality all the time. The Matewan Massacre, the newspaper headlines called it. One of the inciting incidents in the Mine Wars, the largest labor movement in U.S. history, happening in the middle of nowhere, West Virginia. Eight hour days, OSHA, safety regulations, child labor laws, and more came about in part because of it, and the vast strikes that followed. I could see why at least one god, out there somewhere in the dark infinities of the universe, might care about this incident. And at the heart of it lay Chloe, shot, and dead once again.

I sighed. The universe was really going to push me to be good, wasn’t it?

I rewound time, as easily and natural to me as breathing. Second nature, like it was an extension of my own arm. There were the miners, and Chloe, once again, and the detectives, and the other me. We were all standing there, once again watching the event play out. But I was here to disrupt things, and apparently that once again meant I’d need to stop Chloe from dying, one last time.

I sprinted out of the crowd. They could not stop me, of course. How could anyone mortal actually stop me, at this point? I was ready to challenge the gods, and this was nothing. Stop, start, let time and the universe flow through me. And in relative seconds to the observers, and about a minute for me, all of the detectives were slumped over on the ground unconscious. Somewhere over Japan a butterfly flapped its wings, and in accordance with chaos theory, I had once again changed history, shuttling the universe down another path, without the Matewan Massacre, and perhaps the Mine Wars. And maybe pissing off one of the Old Gods of Arcadia Bay enough that they would finally personally intervene.

“Who are you?” This Chloe asked, staring at me.

“Just a butterfly,” I said with a sigh, preparing myself to be pulled out of the universe, or hit by lightning, and punished for my hubris.

“Max!” Chloe said, as Max ran up to her, in her filthy clothes, and threw her arms around her.

“Oh, god, I was so, so worried,” Max gasped. “I don’t want to do this without you. I want you in my life.”

“Hey, of course, Maxine,” Chloe said, softly brushing a finger along her cheek, as I watched the pair of them. “No matter what, or where, or how, you and I are going to be together. You know that, right?”

“Yes.”

I gasped with pain suddenly, and then felt a void fill my chest. It was gone, I realized a second later. The power was no longer coiling inside me, spiraling out to whatever mysterious infinity it had come from. It had suddenly just vanished. Or been taken away. And I felt afraid for the first time in ages. I felt exposed, like the entire universe had been flowing through me a moment before, and then been cut off. Like I had just lost an arm. My eyes pricked, and I felt like vomiting.

Overhead thunder rumbled, and then lightning flashed, and froze, midair, hovering over the ground like Zeno’s arrow, never hitting the mark. The world was frozen around it, too. I could see everyone in the crowd, this Max, this Chloe, this nowhere town, all of it bathed in, and silhouetted by the harsh light of the lightning bolt. This was not me, freezing the universe in its tracks. This was not like it had been with Kate, ages ago. This was something else, and whatever it was, I felt it was very, very angry at me.

There was no transition. I did not black out, or get dizzy, or have my nosebleed. The world did not burn out into static. It just changed. One moment I was standing on a dirt road in the middle of an Appalachian mining town in 1920, and then next moment I was not. I blinked, but the harsh light remained, nearly blinding me, feeling like the universe itself was coming undone at the seams.

I saw the storm, on the horizon, once again frozen in place. I was back in Arcadia Bay, where it had all started, and where it would all end. The same buildings that had been there in 2013 were all there, once again. I was standing in the rain, hovering like static in the still air, and on the other side of the street, every part of it illuminated by the horrible light, was the Two Whales. And no one was anywhere. The streets were empty, and barren, like no one had ever lived here, like it was a town that had been made for this storm to destroy. It was pristine, and sterile, almost clinical, as it waited for the end.

The power was gone. I felt its absence more keenly than I would have thought. It had finally left me, and this time I did not think it would ever come back. I was not doing this, like I had done with the other Max, before going into her nightmares. This was not me, and this was not natural. This had been done to me, and I knew I was utterly powerless to fight anything happening here.

A god had finally directly intervened. I had meddled with history enough for one to actually do it. I had succeeded, and now, whether I wanted to thank it, or kill it, all that was left was to actually talk with whatever was waiting for me in the diner, for whatever had perhaps always been waiting there for me, at the end of my long, long journey.

I crossed the silent road, and walked inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An now we get into the weird, weird, full of myself finale of the series. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, if it wasn't clear, the Matewan Massacre and the Mine Wars is one of my favorite periods in history ever, so, I thought, you know what, just about every other AU has been done, why the hell not do this?


	5. Somewhere, Somewhen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between Max and someone else.

Max walked into the silent, still diner, and sat down on the other side of the booth from the only other person there.

“So,” she said after a long moment, “is that you? I admit, you’re not exactly what I was expecting.”

“And what were you expecting?” The woman with the undercut asked, her hands folded carefully in front of her.

“Top guesses?” Max said, running her hand over her shaved head. “Me. Some other version of me. Or past me. Or some version of Chloe. Or, I don’t know, if you were, like, Satan maybe you’d look like Jefferson. Or maybe like, some transcendent being of light and dark, time and space, spiraling out into the infinities of what is, what isn't, and what could still be. Instead of just some random lady in scrubs. 

"I mean, I could have been written like that, I suppose."

"What?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Right, jumping ahead of myself. We'll get there. For now, good to see you again."

"Have we even met before?”

“You have met someone who looked like this before, yes, I think,” the woman said, looking like she was trying to find the right words. “It’s like, well, do you know what an avatar is?”

“Like the Last Airbender?”

“God, you are such a dork. No, like, well, like the personification of something transcendent on Earth, or, like, in a different plane of existence. Or just like, when you have a character in a MMO or something. This shape you’re seeing right now began life as a nurse working in a local hospital, and volunteering as a sitter. I think you might be familiar with her from that. The timeline where Max didn’t have any powers until the very end but did black out from time to time? The timeline where you ended with scars on both cheeks. I appeared in that one, or, like, this shape appeared, at least.”

“I think I remember you, yeah,” Max said, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. “So are you it, then? Or one of them? At least?”

“One of what?”

“One of the Old Gods of Arcadia Bay.”

“Ah, right,” the woman said, leaning back. “I’m an avatar for one of them, yes. But I am not that god, no. You can’t directly talk to them, only to me. They saw that you were searching for them, and tried to make a way of communicating with you. It’s not one to one, I think that this particular god isn’t a nurse, and lives in somewhere in Appalachia, not Oregon. That’s why the incident in Matewan got their attention. It was very important to them, personally. There are other differences too, but still, I was the most similar thing they had to them. So they’re using me to talk to you now. Repurposed me, brought me back, just for this.”

“God, just for once I’d like to have an easy answer,” Max sighed, leaning back as well. “Is it okay if I just treat you like you are this god, then? Instead of only kinda being it? Do they even have a name?”

“Well, they have a couple,” the woman in the scrubs said. “But I think for purposes of communicating it’s easiest if we refer to them as SufferingIsAChoice.”

“That’s a really dumb name.”

“I think it’s a reference to another universe they’ve been involved in. Someplace called Thedas, but that’s not really relevant to this discussion.”

“Right, right,” Max said, waving vaguely, “let’s get down to business, then. Why, and also how did they give me my power?”

“Oh, they didn’t give you your power,” the woman said brightly. “Not personally, at least. Or not originally, I guess. Someone else came up with that idea first, and they just decided that this version of you would have that power too. They are just one of many, many gods messing around and creating Arcadia Bays. Not even close to the most important, really. And a lot of the first ones were French, for some reason I don’t really understand. They’re the ones who first gave you your power.”

“But why? And how?” Max said faintly. “I’m trying to understand, and you keep making it so dense, and difficult.”

“Right, right, sorry for that,” the woman said, “I don’t think I’m always the best at communicating my thoughts. Let me see if I can spell it all out for you. On a different level of reality than us are all these gods. Some program stuff, some draw, some write, some talk on discord servers, some post stuff on websites. We are the end result of what they create. All of us, on some level, although me a bit more directly, given that right now, as I am saying this, I am speaking for, and in a sense, as, one specific god. Who I think is typing these words right now on a computer? I try not to think too much about it or my head starts hurting.”

“So, wait, they create us?”

“Yeah, exactly. All of these different realities you jump through, all the ones, that, how was it that the Seer phrased it? All the infinite Arcadia Bays echoing out forever, one where you are vampires, or wizards, or cowboys, or you’re the punk and Chloe is the nerd, or where she’s a union activist in Appalachia for some goddamn reason, they are made by the gods. All of them. Just one day one of the more powerful gods, one of the French ones, I think, was making a story, and decided that it would be a better story if you had power over time. They just decided it. That’s all. There doesn’t need to be any other reason why anything happens. It’s the same as the storm. There isn’t any bigger reason for it. They just decide to send it to destroy Arcadia Bay, sometimes, unless you were willing to let one random queer kid be murdered. They make reality what they want it to be.”

“Then why?” Max said, feeling the anger spike inside her, as she slammed her fist down on the counter. “Why do this at all? Chloe can die, Kate can die, a town can be wiped off the map, I can be traumatized and for what? Why would they inflict all of this trauma and suffering on us?”

“I don’t know,” the woman shrugged. “I think some of them have different reasons, too. Some of them for profit, some for fun, some for community, some because they’re exploring and resolving their own issues, some just because they like the stories that other ones made. Because you have to understand, that is all we are to them, in the end. They might care about us, and get emotionally involved. We might genuinely change their lives, but we are still stories, at the end of the day. You know this, right Max?”

“Yeah, I think I have for a long time. I’ve just been ignoring it.”

“I mean, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. A lot of them forget that we’re just stories too, from time to time. That’s the beauty of it. Long after this one story is ended, there will be other gods out there writing their own stories, bringing into existence new Arcadia Bays, new Max’s, new Chloe’s, and more, spiraling out into infinity. We might just be stories, and in many of those stories we might suffer, but without those stories we don’t exist. We are here for a reason, even if we don’t understand it.”

“So we’re here, wherever and whenever this is, saying these words right now, just because some Old God of Arcadia Bay wanted us to be? I had my powers because they wanted me to? That’s what the big answer is, after all this time?”

“Yes. I tell you there is some other reason. Some gods have in their stories. Magic, mad science, whatever. But in the end, it, like everything else here, only exists because that’s how it was written.”

Max leaned back into the cushion, and sighed. The Two Whales was exactly the way it had been back in 2013, just without any people in it. Maybe there never had been people here. Maybe it had always been this empty. Light poured in from the storm she saw frozen outside, illuminating everything in dazzling clarity.

“I guess it doesn’t really make sense to kill you, or attack you, or anything,” she said, after a minute.

“Well, you could,” the woman said with a shrug, “if one of the gods decides to let you. You could kick my ass, and scream to the heavens that it is all unfair, if they write that next. But I don’t think they’re going to.”

“Me neither.”

She looked at her hands. She had come a long way, and had nowhere else to go. Had she been a good person? Did that even matter anymore? She had no answers, only hope that someone out there enjoyed her existence. That on some level of reality she meant something to someone.

“Want to hear something kinda funny?” The woman in the scrubs said after a while longer.

“Sure, why not?”

“There isn’t even any significance to the phrase, The Old Gods of Arcadia Bay. They could have been called anything. I think one of them just thought that it sounded cool, and it slipped into reality, well, our reality, at least, like that. They thought it made a better sounding story. Like, hell, right now as I say this, they're calling themselves and anyone else out there making other Arcadia Bays literal gods. How conceited is that?”

Max sighed, before she replied.

“So, if that’s the answer to all the riddles, if we are really stories, in the end, where do we go from here?”

“Well, other stories will keep getting told, out there across infinity. Other towns, other girls, other realities.”

“No, but, like, what about me? Us? What can we hope for?”

“Well, I mean, the choice is up to you, but I know I hope for the same thing at the end of all my stories,” the figure said with a smile.

Max paused, before she spoke.

“A happy end.”


	6. Hella Bonus Chapter 3: A Happy End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just fluff, honestly, why lie? Thank you all for reading and enjoy a happy ending :)

Somewhere, in another of the infinite timelines...

"I just don't get the appeal," Chloe said, putting her hands on her hips, and trying to stare down the statue.

"Oh, hush," Max said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "It's mysterious and cool, and weird things happen here. What did you think we'd find if we visited the Fremont Troll?"

"I don't know," Chloe said, running her hand through her long, greening hair. "Something more than this. What sort of resolution is this anyway? Hey, some things are just mysterious, and vague, I already knew that. That's not satisfying. Give us some actual concrete answers."

"Maybe it's, like," Max began, tilting her head, "this place wasn't really important, but it references something that was to someone else. If that makes sense."

"Not really," Chloe said, turning to face her, "but you're pretty enough that I don't really care."

"Careful with the flirting there, babe," Max said, blushing just a shade redder, "I do have a weakness for chicks with scars."

"Well then," Chloe said, grinning widely, "you're gonna love the two that I have on my face, right here, and also where that face can go."

...in another timeline...

You wake up, in a warm bed, and look at her.

She's still asleep. Last night was exhausting, finally getting closure with Rachel, but good. The whole time she was there for you, like she always is, always has been, and all ways will. You could think about that, if you wanted to, but right now all want to do is look at her, as she lays with her back turned, your body wrapping around her, your legs tangled together.

She's so small. So small, and fragile, and yet the strongest person you know. She is both your protection, and your home, your lighthouse in a dark and chaotic world, and also the thing you need to keep the most safe. She is freckled, and brown-haired, and soft, and perfect and you can nearly feel your heart exploding with joy, as you slowly, and carefully, so as not to wake her up, inch forward, and wrap your arms around her chest.

She is real, and solid, and for a moment you feel your eyes prick. It's probably her smell. You know that smell from your first nights together, after the storm. She chose you. She always will. You were worth that much, and continue to be worth that much to her. You will die with her, you promise yourself, that morning, as the light falls across you. Because you were born you will also someday die. It is only a tragedy if put in the context of loss. If put in the context of her, and your life together, it is the greatest thing ever. You could be decaying in the ground, right now, but instead you are alive, with her, your wife, and everything is perfect.

She shifts, and as you have, every day, of all your seven long years together, since the storm, and after, you reassure her once more.

"It's okay Max. I'm Chloe, I'm here, I've got you, and you're safe."

...in another...

"So," Kate said, looking up at Max nervously, "we're getting tattoos for real, then?"

"Apparently," Max said, with a serious nod.

"Oh, come on, you two," Chloe said, with her normal, wide, confident grin, "I got plenty of them in prison and only had one get infected once. Plus, you two will look hot as all hell once you get them."

...in another...

Chloe was sitting on her back, against a rock, under lighthouse, when the portal opened. She missed it, in all honesty, too busy playing with the knife. But Max and Kate, each practicing their spellcasting, apparently did see it, and screamed. Chloe bolted upright, knife in hand, and then froze.

It was Kate, but older. A few decades older, probably, and dressed in some sort of military uniform, with a ridiculously huge gun in her hands. And by her side was another older woman, similarly dressed and armed, who looked strangely familiar.

"Victoria Chase?" Max shouted. "Was that time-manipulation magic I just saw?"

"It was science," the old Kate barked. "We're from the future, a bad future, and me and my wife are here to set things straight, once and for all, and prevent the end of the world."

"Wait, what end of the world?" Max shouted.

"Wife?" Kate, Chloe's version of her, her girlfriend, said, weakly.

"We're here from the future to kill Warren Graham and prevent doomsday," Victoria said with a satisfied grin.

...in another...

They had said that there was an activist here, talking about the horrible conditions in the mines. Max had not been in the mines, but she had heard enough, and now she was here.

"Mr. Prescott is a bourgeoisie exploiter," the young man said, as the crowd watched. "He makes millions, living in luxury off your labor. And all the while his thugs, lead by David Madsen, watch you, and your families, keeping you in fear."

He was not a man. Or, maybe, Max caught herself, things were more complicated than that. She looked, and knew that the figure talking now, with fire and anger in their eyes, was the same spitfire she had known growing up. Chloe Price, and she was back, making trouble once again. Something in Max's chest caught, and for a moment, as they made eye-contact, she felt her heart skip a beat. 

...in another...

"Warren," Max said, looking up at him, as the sun set over the Pacific, and the wind whipped her nut-brown hair around her face.

"Max," he said, softly, taking her in his strong arms.

"Warren," she repeated, reaching up to wrap her hands around the back of his head.

"Max," he repeated, her name more of a whisper, or a prayer, as he bent to kiss her lips.

"Oh, fuck, fuck no, eeesh."

"Wait, what?" Warren said, as she pushed him away.

"I am not kissing Warren Graham. I mean, seriously. I am, how would Chloe say it, hella gay. Speaking of, where is she? I mean, seriously, Warren is more like a little brother to me. Why on earth would I ever kiss him?"

"Well, you see," the writer said, "this is the last chapter of a long running fic series, where there's been a pattern of throwing random funny stuff in these bonus chapters, so I was trying to go for a rarer ship, just to throw it out there."

"I'm confused," Warren said.

"Yeah, well," Max said, turning and walking away, "you better write Chloe into this scene. Or Kate. Or, hell, even Victoria, 'cause I am not doing that. Find a different rarepair if you want."

...in another...

"Okay," Lisa said, looking at the dialogue written for her, "so I am the human version of a plant, and she is?"

"She's Alice," the writer said. "I can't think of a rarer couple, so, like why not?"

"'Cause I'm a rabbit," Alice said. "God, this is so stupid."

...in another...

Max blinked. Had she been dreaming, or imagining something? It all seemed so distant.

She had been another Max. She had chosen Arcadia Bay, and let Chloe die. She had suffered, and let that suffering twist her into something she did not want to be. And then she had changed, and gotten better, only to learn that, in the end, she had been just a story, something for the Old Gods of Arcadia Bay to use to entertain themselves. Right?

"Max."

She shook the thought out of her mind, and turned and looked at Chloe. They were driving away from town, and the wreckage, and what was left of Arcadia Bay. She had chosen to save Chloe. She would always choose that. That was how she wanted her story to end. That was happy enough, and she would never regret it.

"Chloe," Max said, reaching across and taking her hand. "You're real. You're safe, and with me."

"Hey, you know how it is, Max," Chloe said softly, pulling her hand up and kissing it, as she kept her eyes on the road, "you and me are going to be together until we die. Max and Chloe, forever."

And for one moment, everything was right with the world.

...and in reality:

A reader finishes a story, and pauses a moment. It meant something, the writer hopes, because in the end that's all any writer ever hopes. But maybe it did not. Maybe it was badly written, or too long, or too rambling, or too pretentious, especially at the end, when it broke the forth wall. But in the end even that doesn't matter. What matters is that the reader pauses, and then, hopefully, starts writing, as another Arcadia Bay is born, and another story starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this is, definitively, the end of The Old Gods of Arcadia Bay. It has been a crazy and wildly self-indulgent ride, and I thank you all for taking it with me. Particularly Rainboq, Tangent101, Revishawke, and mc776. Could not have done it without you all! I legit could not ever do a sequel to this.
> 
> That said, maybe someday I will return to writing fic. I don't have any plans of even the vaguest nature, and I do have other writing projects I am going to be focusing on. But I am very much still a part of this fandom, and look forward to reading all your wonderful works in the future! Feel free to reach out, 'cause I love you all a bunch, and think you're cool as hell.


End file.
